


pendulum in my head

by diphylleias



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Future Fic, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Snippets, ging-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diphylleias/pseuds/diphylleias
Summary: “I think,” Gon breathes out. “I like Killua.”Gon at seventeen is odd. He’s softer at the edges in a way that’s startingly different from the twelve-year-old that chased Ging halfway across the world. The determination in his eyes still shines, sharp and refined, but it seems more a steady burn than a wildfire.He’s growing up, Ging’s mind supplies helpfully, and the strangely paternal thought is enough to startle words out of him.“Uh,” Ging starts slowly. He doesn’t need to ask what kind oflikeit is; that much is obvious in the weight of the words and the way Gon is frowning at the ground. “And you are telling me this… because?”(A series of vignettes into the future: of Ging trying—kind of, maybe, unknowingly—to make amends.)





	pendulum in my head

“You’re a terrible father,” the girl says, voice flat. Large, piercing eyes drill holes through him and irritation prickles uncomfortably at the back of Ging’s neck. The redhead continues to stare at him, and Ging finds it almost scary how easy it is to see Kite in her. The blunt words, the rare smile, the special kind of exasperation that he’s positive Kite only shows around him.

“Yeah, I know,” he finally forces out, looking away and allowing his eyes to rest on the wall behind Kite.

"You let Leorio punch you, didn't you?" Kite asks wryly.

"Shut up," Ging says, eyes still stuck to the wall. He sees Kite shake her head—in amusement, or resignation—he doesn't want to know. 

"It's a good start to making amends," Kite murmurs quietly. Ging's eyes linger on the freckles of his former student and his brows furrow.

"I'm not making amends." He mutters uncomfortably. "I'm trying to get them to move on and leave my life alone."

"Yes," Kite replies mildly. "Your equivalent of making amends."

Ging glares at the wall. "I let Gon talk to me for a couple hours to get it out his system. So now he can stop chasing me. I don't _regret_ leaving him; I was never cut out to be a dad. I'm not trying to make it up to him—I'm giving him what he wants for now so he can stop chasing me.”

They sit in silence for several moments, Ging's eyes flickering around the room.

“This is strange,” Ging says finally. “I’ll never get used to you being a girl.”

“Ah,” Kite sighs, hands shifting slightly on the table in front of her. “Some things never change.”

 

 

+

 

 

"Yo," Ging announces weakly, arms falling loosely to his side after an attempted wave.

Mito stares at him for a long, long time. Her eyes are reminiscent of Kite's, piercing and difficult to read. For the thousandth time in his life, Ging is reminded of why he is terrified of women. He stands there silently, shifting his feet around the doorway of the very house he grew up in, as Mito continues to stare at him.

"You _asshole_ ," she hisses, before marching over and throwing her arms around him. Ging lets out an involuntary grunt at the contact, but his body relaxes almost immediately in response to the familiar arms and nostalgic scent of lavender.

“Nice to see you too,” he grumbles sarcastically. Mito pulls back and jabs him the ribs, earning a loud yelp in response.

“Almost fifteen years,” Mito sighs, shaking her head. “Without a single word. You didn’t even bother to check in with Gon _once_. Just dropped him off and went on your merry way.” Her nose wrinkles. “Not to mention, you’re still dressed horrendously. _Jesus_ , have you even washed your clothes once?”

“Three times,” Ging grumbles, only mildly offended. Mito shakes her head again and Ging is hit with another sharp pang of nostalgia.

“Go shower,” Mito orders him, “and find—I don’t know—find something else to wear. Dinner will be ready in a bit.” She huffs and turns around resolutely, retreating to the kitchen to resume her cooking. And just like that, it’s like fifteen years, twenty-five years, have dissolved between them. Suddenly Ging is twelve and Mito is six again and their bickering, their easy conversation returns like it’s never left.

Except now, Ging realizes as he steps into the shower, Mito isn’t a little girl nipping at his heels everywhere he goes. Now, _he’s_ the one feeling slightly disoriented, uncertain of where to tread.

“Dammit,” he mutters quietly to himself as the warm water splashes over his bare skin.

 

 

“Oh my god,” Mito laughs as soon as he steps into the kitchen. “Oh—Oh my god,” she wheezes, barely stifling giggles into her arm.

“You told me to find something to wear,” Ging replies dully, embarrassment scratching at the edges of his voice. “What did you fucking expect?”

“Language,” Mito chides absentmindedly, but she’s still fighting off residual hiccups of laughter. “Oh god,” she says again. “I have to tell Gon you wore his clothes.” Ging glares at her and then at the tight pair of sweatpants around his legs. At least he had found an oversized sweater that fit decently, but he knows he still looks like an idiot. Then, as if hearing his thoughts, Mito follows up with, “Good to know you’re still an idiot.”

“Who told me they hated me and never wanted me to return?” Ging shoots back. Mito stills, and for a moment guilty panic surges up within him. _Too soon?_ He almost asks.

“I was six,” Mito says easily, rolling her eyes and looking steadily at Ging. “Of course I hated you and never wanted you to come back.” She wrings her hand on a dishtowel and lowers her eyes to the sink. “I was lonely, I guess. Who leaves their family when they’re twelve?” She brings her eyes back up to Ging’s face, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Gon did,” Ging points out dumbly. Mito smacks him on the arm, _hard_ , and Ging yelps.

“Because both of you have the same thick skulls and big hearts filled with the belief that you can save everyone and everything,” she says, sighing. “So similar, the two of you. Such a handful.”  

Ging makes an affronted noise at the last part but wisely chooses to ignore it in favor for the first part: “You think I have a big heart?” He grins broadly at Mito.

“Is that only thing you heard?” Mito asks, mildly annoyed but also fond. “Let’s eat, dinner’s going to get cold.” But before she fully turns around, she whips out a phone from her apron pocket and snaps a picture of Ging.

“You—,” Ging starts, eyes narrowed.

“Sent to Gon,” Mito chirps cheerfully. And then, almost hesitantly, she glances back up at Ging from her phone screen.

“What?” Ging asks, confused. Mito’s eyes are big and uncertain and they almost remind him of when he would find her lost in the forest when they were younger. Mito opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

“Do you have a phone?” She asks quietly. Ging blinks at her.

“’Course,” he says gruffly. “I’m not _that_ much of an idiot.” He fishes an old, cheap phone out of the pockets of Gon’s sweats and brandishes it in Mito’s face, chuckling slightly at her wrinkled nose.

“Okay,” Mito declares, snatching his phone suddenly. “I’m putting my number in.”

 

 

+

 

 

“I think,” Gon breathes out. “I like Killua.”

Gon at seventeen is odd. He’s softer at the edges in a way that’s startingly different from the twelve-year-old that chased Ging halfway across the world. The determination in his eyes still shines, sharp and refined, but it seems more a steady burn than a wildfire. _He’s growing up,_ Ging’s mind supplies helpfully, and the strangely paternal thought is enough to startle words out of him.  

“Uh,” Ging starts slowly. He doesn’t need to ask what kind of _like_ it is; that much is obvious in the weight of the words and the way Gon is frowning at the ground. “And you are telling me this… because?”

“Dunno.” Gon mumbles, leaning back against the tree and looking up. “I felt like I had to tell someone.” He looks blankly at Ging for a few beats. “Do you know what I should do?”

Ging is stunned speechless for a few seconds before his mind catches up to his mouth. “Listen, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly great at this whole father-son advice thing, hell, this whole father thing, so why—” He groans, frustrated. “Why are you asking me?”

“Hmm,” Gon says slowly, brows furrowed. He looks genuinely confused for a few seconds and _some things really never change_ , Ging thinks. Gon turns to him, eyes suddenly hesitant. “Don’t you have experience?”

The air grows heavy in a manner of seconds. Gon is still looking at him and Ging knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Did you,” Ging swallows once, twice. Stares at his hands. “Did you listen to the whole tape?” He hasn’t felt this unsettled in a while. Suddenly his mind is jumping to corners he’d rather forget, toeing across borders he hadn’t made clear, and his heart thumps uncomfortably in his chest.

“No,” Gon replies immediately. “I didn’t want to know. Mito-san has always been like a mom to me.”

“Of course,” Ging sighs. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t listen to the whole thing. I—no, it’s not really—I don’t have—it doesn’t count,” he finishes dumbly.

“Okayyy…” Gon responds, looking at him suspiciously. “So you have experience but it doesn’t count?”

“Urgh,” Ging says instead, because now his night is ruined by memories he thought he’d trashed. “Yeah, basically that.” Gon deflates, looking disappointed, and Ging almost lets out a laugh at how childish he looks. “Listen,” Ging finally starts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I think you should just … tell it to him straight, I guess. From what you’ve told me it seems like you two don’t see each other often, right? So if you don’t tell him next time you meet up then you’ll never know when you’ll get to tell it to him again. It could be years.” He scratches at the back of his neck.

“Hm,” Gon says thoughtfully, again. “Okay. I think I’ll tell him on his birthday next month. We’re meeting up to celebrate.”

“Yeah,” Ging replies, still feeling weird and out of his element. “Okay.”

“Thanks Ging!” Gon yells out happily, before practically vanishing into thin air and disappearing back to wherever he came from. Ging doesn’t try very hard nowadays to keep his aura concealed, and it seems Gon has a knack for finding him ever since he found him the first time. He’s dropped by a few times, never for long, always to ask about nen or combat or _something_ related to Ging’s area of expertise but never for something as, well, normal as a crush.

“You’re welcome,” Ging says quietly into the empty air.

 

 

+

 

 

“Do you still keep in touch with that son of yours?” Pariston asks him, words innocent but voice slippery and getting under Ging’s skin as usual.

“Fuck off,” Ging says elegantly. Pariston’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles, looking amused.

“Yes, then,” he concludes happily. Ging sighs under his breath. “Who knew Ging-san could actually be a decent father sometimes?”

“Shut up,” Ging mutters, because he can’t quite bring himself to agree or disagree with that assertation. “Mind your own business, Pariston. How did you find me anyways?” He had run into Pariston unexpectedly while at the grocery store, trying for once in his life to change his terrible eating habits at the nagging of Mito over the phone. Going to buy veggies only to run into Pariston Hill, who then insisted they talk over coffee. The world truly hates him.

“I didn’t _find_ you,” Parison says, frowning slightly. Ging squints at him. “I was going grocery shopping like regular humans. It’s not my fault it was your first time doing such a basic task.”

“Right, sure,” Ging says airily, because Pariston may be right about the second half but there was no way the world brought them coincidentally together at the same grocery store at the same time. “And now I’m sitting here listening to you blabber.”

“I just wanted to catch up!” Pariston exclaims, affronted. Ging rolls his eyes so hard they almost go to the back of his head. “Was it Gon who finally convinced you to go grocery shopping?” He asks, ignoring Ging’s reaction.

“No,” Ging sighs. He eyes the clock in the coffeeshop warily. He really doesn’t have anything better to do today, and though he’s still highly mistrustful of Pariston, he doubts the other would pull anything in such a public place. “It was my cousin.”

“Oh?” Pariston says, eyes lighting up. “Reconnecting with more family? I guess it’s true then, you truly are making amends.” Ging bristles at that, remembering Kite’s words from a few years ago.

“Who’s been saying I’m making amends,” he says slowly.

“Leorio,” Pariston replies instantly. “And Kurapika.” Ging gapes at him for a minute. “Oh Ging,” Parison sighs. “Do you not check up with the Zodiacs every now and then?” He pauses. “Admittedly, Leorio and Kurapika do not seem to like me very much, but they share occasional information about Gon and their other friends. It’s quite interesting.”

“Oh,” Ging says finally, still surprised. “I see.”

“You should try it,” Pariston says, eyes sparkling in that infuriatingly knowing way. “Catching up, making amends.” He shrugs, eyes still on Ging. “You might like it.”

 

 

+

 

 

Mito

_We’re holding Gon’s 20 th birthday party back at Whale Island. It’s just a few of his close friends and me. Do you want to come? (6:32)_

_You don’t have to, of course. (6:32)_

_But I thought you’d want the invite. (6:33)_

(Back when Netero had chosen Ging to be a Zodiac, Ging had balked at the older man’s words.

“Why me?” He had asked slowly, carefully. “You know I don’t really like …” He trails off, gesturing vaguely to his surroundings. “Being tied down. Dealing with people. Placed in the spotlight,” he finishes. “I mean, I’ll do it, but still.” He eyes Netero warily. Ging at twenty-seven is restless, flighty, impatient.

“Ah, Ging,” Netero just sighs, smiling at him warmly. “I recognize a good person when I see it. Someday, perhaps far in the future, you will realize your heart is bigger than you think it is. You are softer than what you make yourself out to be. Awkward at times, possibly,” he pauses, old eyes wrinkling at the corners. “But genuine nevertheless. It is not my duty to teach you how to give and take with others. Right now you are too young, too concerned with the world. You will learn on your own.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it,” Ging cuts him off, almost grumbling. “There’s no need for you to spin me lies.”

Netero’s eyes just sparkle with a hint of amusement as he nods shortly and hands Ging a form.)

 

 

_Okay (8:25)_

_I’ll come (8:25)_

_Wait. What day is it on? (8:42)_

 

  

 

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> my friend finished watching hxh for the first time a few days ago and it made me so nostalgic n i ended up rewatching clips and i need ... closure... and somehow this came about? it was fun writing in ging's pov and i hope you enjoyed reading!! as always, feedback is hugely appreciated <3


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